


Losing them

by Lonliest_muffin



Category: Katekyou Hitman Reborn!
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Between Rage and Serenity, Character Death, Heavy Angst, Implied/Referenced Character Death, M/M, Major Character Injury, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Out of Character, Tags May Change
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-18
Updated: 2019-09-18
Packaged: 2020-10-21 10:48:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,549
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20692274
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lonliest_muffin/pseuds/Lonliest_muffin
Summary: The attack on the Merone base goes horrifically wrong. There is one sole survivor however. And his rage is incomprehensible.





	Losing them

**Author's Note:**

> This is just the very beginning of a little something that's been on my mind. Please enjoy~!

The blackness he found himself in was almost cozy and quite definitely warm. But it didn't cover the fact that he could feel the sensation of his clothes sticking to his body thanks to sweat and, more likely, blood.  
He would've drifted endlessly in that darkness. He almost did. It was the softest of groans that tore him free from that uncertain fate.  
And for a long moment after he cracked his eyes open, his mind was just a blank slate, filled only with the white noise that is the familiar ache of lacerations and broken bones.  
The second sound he perceived was a pained exhale, followed shortly thereafter by a rough, wet-sounding cough and a soft murmur. "K..yo..." He had to lift his head up and to the side at an incredibly awkward angle to see what was making the noise.

Still, his vision was blurry, filled with vague shapes of a painfully bright white, a faded grey, a dull black and a flickering blue. Then, just as his eyes were about to adjust to the bright lights, his brain offered up faint memories of the last few hours.  
They had started their attack, were ambushed and seperated. Some of his own had even been killed of before he ever even got the chance to fight anyone.  
Even so, he fought. For minutes, hours, it almost felt as though he had been fighting for several days. And for the first time in his life, his thirst for battle, this familiar, all consuming bloodlust, was sated.  
This unusual, satiated state was probably one of the main reasons how the scene, that was now before his eyes, happened in the first place. 

He was in a room that was completely broken, just about as badly wrecked as his own body. Debris was all around him, on top of him even, pinning him to an unstable, tiled floor. And as his world came into focus before his eyes, something fractured somewhere deep inside him at the same time.  
There, just one, maybe two meters away from him, lay Yamamoto Takeshi. His comrade, his (former)kohai, his fellow guardian and, over the years, one of those he grew to consider his friends. His Takeshi, his Rain, was caught in much of the same situation as he himself.  
Trapped, squished underneath one of the huge piles of debris that took up most of the room they were probably stuck in for now. 

Yet, even though similar, his Rain's situation was way more dire than his own. It was probably simple misfortune that had brought this upon his Takeshi.  
Maybe a slip up in battle, maybe when the debris fell. Regardless of how it happened, Takeshi's blade was deeply inbedded in the sword man's torso, the handle sticking out at his right shoulder, with the blade glinting just underneath his left arm. It probably skewered through one of his lungs, if not both, yet his Takeshi still persisted, panting raggedy, blood almost pouring from his chapped lips as he struggled to try to dislodge the blade at his shoulder, pulling at it with all his might. It didn't budge an inch. 

He found himself reaching out to stop his Rain's useless struggle before his brain caught up with him properly for the first time and the faint white noise that occupied his mind thus far blossomed into searing pain. His legs were at the very least fractured in several places and completely trapped under the debris. With no tool, not even his trusted weapons, to leverage up the concrete slabs, he had no hope of relieving the pressure on those pinched nerves and crushed muscles anytime soon.  
He simply flinched at the red hot sensation, his arm dropping, about halfway there to touch his comrade. 

Another, louder groan sounded then, but his Takeshi hadn't been the source of the disconcerting noise. Grey blue eyes could only blink slowly as what was left of the ceiling above them groaned once more under what could only be a rather hefty weight. His Rain was growing frantic at this point, trying to free himself, trashing around, trying to pull his sword free, to move away from the danger in any way.  
He, on the other hand, was consumed by an odd... Calmless. A serenity had settled deep inside him. Resignation perhaps? He wasn't yet delirious enough to still cling onto hope, but does the absence of hope mean there is despair? Had he ended up giving up before he even died? 

He wasn't given much time to ponder these observations, as moments later, the ceiling creaked and more debris came sailing down right towards them. He didn't even bother closing his eyes to brace for the impact. He saw it coming before it even happened. The debris was not going to hit his body. But...  
He grit his teeth against the effort of moving and threw up his right arm, grasping the flailing hand of his Rain and holding it tight in his own. He simply offered a moment of skin to skin contact and a stupified, broken smile took over his Takeshi's features. Right before that familiar head of dark hair was crushed and split open before his eyes. The blue flame flickered, withered and died alongside it's owner. Both of them, erased from his reach forever. 

The hand in his grasp twitched, convulsed almost, and went limp. It will forever be a strange reassurance to know that the impact brought an immediate, almost merciful death.  
He didn't hold onto that damp, slowly cooling hand for much longer after that, busy instead with taking deep, even breaths. It wouldn't do him any good to panic now. It would be even worse if he began to hyperventilate, so he eased himself willingly into the breathing exercises he frequently saw his Storm use.  
That thought brought up the bitter memory of his Hayato succumbing slowly to a gaping stomach wound, just half an hour after an enemy, most probably the Mist of those real funeral wreaths, had lured away his sun, his Ryohei, with threats to his sun's baby sister.

Only once the loud static of his mind had faded back into red hot pain again, did he refocus himself. He looked up and reached out, probably breaking one of his legs in the process. But after a few tries, he managed to securely wrap his fingers around the blade that was jutting out from under the, now bloody, debris.  
A few shakes, some harsher tugs and it slipped free with a wet squelch that made his stomach lurch. He took another deep breath, trying not to think about anything for now as he wedged the sharp blade underneath the concrete slab that had trapped his lower body. He shimmied it around a bit until it caught on something, then he pulled it down against another piece of concrete that lay underneath the surprisingly dull edge of the sword. 

With some effort, but no more broken bones, he managed to pull himself free from his stony prison, taking slow, but shallow breaths now. It took him some more minutes to gather up the resolve to pull himself up onto his own legs. Just about every inch of his body was bloody, beaten and sore, so the state of his legs wasn't much different than the condition of his arms.  
He didn't care. Instead, he slowly swept his eyes across the ruined room he still stood inside of, searching for a certain item. His Takeshi didn't seem to have had it on him and, anyhow, he wasn't thrilled by the thought of scavenging the corpse of his recently deceased Rain. 

Fortunately, he wouldn't have to endure that, as, a moment later, his eyes caught an unusually bright glint for a room this dusty. It was not too far from where the sheath of his Rain's blade had ended up. He slowly made his way towards that location, picking up the sheath and bringing the sword back into it slowly, leaving the weapon lossely in his left hand then.  
He then gently knelt down, pushing some smaller debris aside, until he could reach out and pick up the small, precious item. The Vongola Rain ring... His Rain's ring. He gingerly looked it over for any damage, found none and put it in his pocket to join it with the others he found so far. 

His Rain, his Storm, his Lightning. The Millefiore sun, its cloud, its rain, its mist, its storm and its lightning. Even three dull pacifiers, one red, one purple, one green, had found their way into his possession over the last few days. 

A sigh left his bruised, bloody lips and he narrowed grey blue eyes as his face twisted into a scowl. He calmly began to make his way out of the unstable room, grabbing one of his own, partially broken weapons on his way out. He won't be able to use one of his tonfa. That one was completely broken, but he also had a sword by his side now, so that might not pose much of an issue. 

Regardless of the weapons at his disposal, Hibari Kyoya has a bastard sky to hunt. And nobody will keep him from his prey any longer.

**Author's Note:**

> If enough people want it, I'll try and do something more with this plot bunny, but until then, I'll leave this here~
> 
> Thanks for reading~! Constructive comments and comments in general are always incredibly appreciated~!


End file.
